The Quarry
by Sariniste
Summary: Halloween is approaching, and with it a once-in-a-century dark conjunction that offers the opportunity for evil to engulf the earth. A vampire lord reaches for power; all that stands in his way is one young girl and her unique ability. Vampire AU, AiHime.
1. Chapter 1

**The Quarry – Chap. 1**

**A/N:** Halloween is approaching, and with it a once-in-a-century dark conjunction that offers the opportunity for evil to engulf the earth. A vampire lord reaches for power; all that stands in his way is one young girl and her unique ability. Vampire AU, AiHime.

A Halloween story for the AiHime fan club on BA.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Bleach_.

(Originally posted 10/27/12.)

XxXxXxX

The tall iron door creaked open, casting a ray of wan yellow light onto the onyx flagstones of the huge, dim hall. A slender, pale figure shrouded in black robes walked forward in the icy gloom. His footfalls echoed from wall to wall and down from the high ceiling lost in the darkness.

At the very end of the room, reclining against a blood red velvet cushion on a throne carved from obsidian, was a tall man – or what appeared to be a man. His skin was chalk-pale above a high black collar. Thick, tousled brown hair was swept back from a face that would not have been out of place on an angel, complete with high cheekbones, an elegant nose, and dark liquid eyes that were so compelling that it was hard to look away. A faint but somehow menacing smile played about his full lips as he watched the other man approach.

The slight man dropped to one knee before the throne and bent his head of shaggy black hair, waiting.

"You may rise, Ulquiorra." The voice, impossibly deep and rich, echoed around the vast throne room.

"I have found the source of the problem, Lord Aizen." Brilliant green eyes focused on dark ones. "There is an individual who appears to have an ability we thought impossible."

Dark brown eyebrows lifted in inquiry.

"This woman, Sire." Ulquiorra gestured with a pale, black-nailed hand. A jet of light shot forth from his fingertips and activated a semi-translucent video screen. On the screen was an image of a young woman, most likely still in her teens. Long auburn hair framed a face graced by large gray eyes, a pert nose with a dusting of freckles, and a generous mouth, currently turned down in an expression of dismay. She took two hesitant steps forward and the image of a hulking, brown-haired youth lying on the ground, insensible, came into view. She fell to her knees, raised both hands, and, mouth firming with determination, called out some words that could not be heard on the video.

Immediately, a golden light in the shape of a shield appeared around the fallen youth. Through the sparkling light, the viewers could see that his face, which had been pale and bloodless, reacquired life and a rosy flush. He opened his eyes, sucked in a gasping breath, and the woman fell on him laughing, taking him in a warm embrace.

The image faded, leaving the throne room in darkness once again.

"Lord Aizen, this woman appears to have the ability to reverse the effects of the bite of a vampire."

The tall man on the throne frowned. "Neither human nor any power on this earth has ever been able to purify the blood poisoning of a vampire's bite. Once turned, a human can never go back. It is a known tenet and a crucial foundation of the balance between humans and vampires in this world." His voice was serene and definite.

The smaller vampire bent his head. "With all due respect, Sire, I myself witnessed this boy become human again after the woman's treatment."

"Perhaps the boy was not correctly attacked?" suggested Aizen.

The shaggy head lifted and the green eyes focused on his master's. "I turned him myself, my Lord."

The vampire lord gestured, and the image of the woman reappeared in the room. He gazed at it thoughtfully for some moments. "It seems this girl has a very interesting power," he mused.

"Do you wish me to eliminate her, Sire?" asked Ulquiorra.

The taller man did not respond for a moment, continuing to contemplate the image of the young girl. Then, "Not yet," he said. "I will go myself to the city and witness this miracle." He turned his eyes back to Ulquiorra. "Set up an appropriate identity for me."

The other man bowed. "At once, Lord Aizen."

The brown-haired vampire rested his chin on the knuckles of one hand as he returned his gaze to the image before him. "What is the name of the possessor of this extraordinary power?"

"Her name is Orihime Inoue."

XxXxXxX

The four friends were gathered in Ichigo's bedroom, where many a strategy session had been conducted ever since the fateful day that the famed vampire hunter Rukia Kuchiki had arrived in Karakura Town with the bad news about the threat to the human world – and the magical jewel that gave them all powers to combat that threat.

Ichigo Kurosaki was the leader of their small group. His sword Zangetsu was one of the few weapons that could stop a vampire. He ran a hand through his spiky, orange hair and scowled.

Sitting beside him on the bed was his friend Uryuu Ishida. "I tell you," Uryuu insisted, "there's been a change. It used to be that all the vampires I fought were lone hunters, squabbling over territory. I was able to pick them off one by one. But now I'm seeing signs that they're working together. They're even evidencing signs of sophisticated strategy."

Ichigo frowned. "I didn't think the vamps were capable of forming social groups. All the ones we've seen making temporary alliances have turned on their colleagues as soon as they could."

Uryuu crossed his arms. "That might have been true in the past. But now –" he looked at a brawny teen with shaggy brown hair.

Yasutora Sado, or Chad as he was known to the friends, nodded. "A couple of weeks ago, Orihime and I were ambushed by a group of about six vampires working together and almost didn't make it out alive." He glanced over at the lone woman in the group. "If it hadn't been for Orihime, I wouldn't be here now."

The young woman blushed. "Yes," she said in her soft voice. She raised eyes full of pain to Ichigo. "One of them had been a boy I once knew. He talked to us before he… passed away," she whispered.

Chad's lips twisted in distress. "He told us there was a new and extraordinarily powerful vampire in town. He's moved in and is trying to take over; he's been organizing all the vamps under his rule."

"He threatens them if they don't swear allegiance to him," Orihime murmured, twisting a strand of long auburn hair around her finger.

"Apparently he has a special power over them that enables him to cause pain or even kill them without touching them," Chad added. "They are all terrified of him and are willing to work together if he orders it."

Ichigo scowled. "It looks like we've got a new job then." He looked around at his friends. "We've got to find him and take him down."

Orihime and Chad exchanged glances. "He's extremely dangerous. We'll have to be careful."

"Well," replied Ichigo, "it's not like we have a choice, is it?" He fingered the silver chain around his neck. "Halloween's coming up, and there will be a full moon on the 31st, and you all know what that means." He looked up. "Are you all ready?"

The others nodded soberly. Then Orihime pulled out her cell phone and gasped at the time. "Oh, no!" she cried, jumping to her feet. "I'm late for class! Professor Aizen is very strict about tardies!"

And with that, she was out the door and running to campus.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Quarry – Chap. 2**

**A/N:** Thank you so much for the great response! I can't tell you how happy your reviews, faves, and alerts made me feel. You all inspired me to write another chapter today. Hope you enjoy.

Dedicated to **Flare-Flare**. :D

(Originally posted 10/28/12.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime knocked on her professor's office door timidly. She twisted her hands together. She had come to his class that morning five minutes late, entering the large, high-ceilinged lecture hall out of breath from running all the way to campus, her skin still tingling from the crisp, winey air of fall and her boots dusty from crunching through mounds of dead leaves. Aizen had looked down at her from the lectern, pausing just long enough to let her sense his extreme disapproval of her tardiness. He had narrowed his eyes at her and then raised one perfect eyebrow in a gesture of scorn, finally turning away so that she could see his elegant profile and censorious frown as he returned to his lecture.

Her face beet red, Orihime had made her way into the classroom, head bowed in apology. Unfortunately, the only open seats were in the front row, so she had to sit down in full view of everyone under her professor's disapproving glare.

It was disturbing to sit so close to him. Ever since classes had started a couple of weeks ago and she had found that she would have a new instructor for her 19th century Romantic poetry class, he had been throwing her off balance.

She remembered the first time she had come to his office at the start of term, knocking on the heavy dark wood door. His deep voice had startled her when he invited her in. Then, as she stood before his large teak desk stacked with books bristling with markers, and covered with pages and pages of notes written in an elegant calligraphy, she had stared at him and realized her new professor was the most handsome man she had ever seen. She had suddenly felt as though all the blood was rushing to her face and her knees felt weak. Through the pounding in her ears, her gaze had passed over his thick brown hair, casually tousled and falling in his face over square glasses, a patrician nose, cheekbones that made her want to run her fingers over them… She stopped herself in shock at the direction her thoughts were taking. She felt a warning bell deep in her psyche, almost like the adrenaline rush she felt when she was battling a vampire or raising her powers to shield herself. She shook her head. Why would she be thinking of vampires now, here in the daytime in her professor's office? And worse, she thought as she continued to stare at him, confused, why did she feel this intense twinge in her core? Unconsciously, she rubbed her thighs together, and the corners of his generous mouth turned up slightly for a moment before his face settled into a look of polite inquiry.

"You wanted to see me?" he said, looking down at a slip of paper on his desk, "Ms. … Inoue?"

"Eheheh." She wasn't sure why she was giggling and blushing like a schoolgirl. She was a mature adult, nineteen years old and a freshman in college. But for some reason, the air in his office seemed thick and heavy with a scent of something indescribable, and it made her feel warm, as though she were wearing too many clothes. Her skin prickled and oddly, she wanted to close her eyes and writhe. Her breast heaved.

Struggling to get herself under control, she placed a hand on the back of her neck and pressed her thighs together tightly. "Yes, Professor Aizen." She sat up straight and was proud her voice sounded brisk and professional. "I signed up for this class when I thought Professor Hirako would be teaching it. I know it's an upper division class; Professor Hirako had me write an essay as an entrance exam and he granted me permission to take the class."

Aizen leaned back in his chair, took off his glasses, and studied her. "This class requires… a certain sophistication… in the analysis of literary texts that is often beyond the… experience of most freshmen." She saw his tongue appear at the corner of his mouth. "Are you quite certain you have the… maturity to plumb the depths of such concepts and all their… implications?" His huge, dark, liquid eyes bored into her and she swallowed, losing the thread of his words spoken in that low, resonant voice. What exactly had he said? She had to pull herself together, convince him to let her take the class. But why did she feel so strange, almost faint?

She firmed her lips and sat up straighter. "I'm certain, Professor Aizen," she said. "And I really want to take the class. I'll be happy to prove myself to you anyway you like."

"Indeed." He studied her some more as she grew even more uncomfortable. Finally he looked down and began scratching a note on a piece of paper. "Very well. I'll allow you to take the class, but I will require a set of additional assignments that I will describe later."

"Oh, thank you, sir!" Orihime felt giddy with relief. "I promise you, you won't be disappointed."

However, ever since that day, it seemed that all she did was disappoint him. First, she had had to miss a class due to an unexpected early morning attack by two vampires on one of the dorms. She had had to stay there well into the morning healing everyone and making sure everything was cleaned up.

In the past, she had worried that her vampire hunting activities might interfere with her schoolwork when she went to college, and now it appeared to be happening exactly as she had feared. Aizen was most displeased and asked her in a very sarcastic tone if she was truly serious about his class if she couldn't be bothered to attend. Flustered, she had stammered something about being sick and promised to make it up to him.

Then, today, she had been late, after he had made a special announcement in class saying that he despised tardiness and would take the students down a full letter grade if they could not make it to his lecture on time.

Now she stood before his door again, worrying both about her grade and about the inappropriate way she seemed to behave in his presence. She had to get herself under control before she entered his office.

"Come in," his deep voice called from within, and she opened the door.

He was sitting behind his desk as before, and she dipped her head apologetically as she stood in the doorway. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. He was dressed more casually than she had seen before, in a long-sleeved black shirt. His jacket was hanging on a hook by the door and as she passed by, she caught his scent and almost stumbled before she righted herself and grasped the back of the hard wooden chair. Gritting her teeth to stay focused, she sat down and looked up at him. His black silk shirt was open at the collar, exposing the smooth skin of his throat. Her eyes were drawn to it unwillingly, and she quickly turned them away, attempting to focus on his stern, beautiful face.

"Professor Aizen," she began, "I'm very sorry about being tardy today, and I've come to –"

"Ms. Inoue," he interrupted, "I don't wish to hear your attempt at an excuse. Please don't embarrass us both with another fabrication."

She flushed. How did he know that she had been lying earlier about missing his class? She took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. She had to convince him that she wanted to do well in his class. She lifted her bag into her lap and pulled out a ten page analysis she had written of the Coleridge poem they had discussed in class last week. "Professor, is there any way I can show you my dedication by performing extra assignments? I wrote this essay for you and I thought maybe we could discuss it –"

He barely glanced at the document she had worked so hard on before he tossed it carelessly to one side of his desk. "My dear girl," he chastised, "surely you don't think this is sufficient recompense for your poor behavior?"

"I—" she muttered, squirming under his gaze.

"Look at me," he commanded. He took off his glasses and leaned forward, fixing her with his eyes. She inhaled sharply as she stared at him. She could see the reflection from the window in his irises, which were so dark brown as to be almost black. The fringe of lashes around his eyes was so thick, and the eyelashes curved so delicately, that she found she wanted to trace their arcs and not look away. Her insides began tingling again. She realized that she was staring, mouth slightly open, in a most inappropriate way, at her professor, and her face flushed. Desperately, she tried to look away, but found herself unable to do so. What was happening to her?

She saw his full lips curve in a smile that seemed somehow sinister and she felt a rush of fear. But how could that be? She was imagining things again. Surely nothing could happen here on the college campus, in broad daylight, with the sun streaming in the window. She had never felt this amount of fear except when facing a vampire in the dead of night. But then, it was never tempered with this odd excitement, where it felt like she could feel her blood rushing through her veins and pooling in areas she normally did not think about. She twisted in the chair and her clothes felt tight and constricting.

He rose from behind the desk and walked over to her. She found herself staring at his long, elegant legs encased in tapering, well-fitting slacks. He moved gracefully, almost sinuously, almost as though he were flowing around the desk. She bit her lip hard. Where was she coming up with these fanciful notions? She needed to stop it right away.

"My dear, you seem a little faint," he murmured. Was that concern she heard in his voice? "Why don't you sit down over here on the couch for a bit?"

Somehow, she found herself half reclining on his couch, leaning against a satin pillow, her legs up on the cushions. She looked down. Her skirt had ridden up her thighs, exposing far too much of her legs and making the sensitive skin of her inner thighs quiver. She tugged the hem down awkwardly, self-conscious. Her face felt heated, and suddenly the buttons of her blouse seemed too tight. She realized she had to loosen her clothing or she would pass out. Urgently, she fumbled at the top button, but her fingers were clumsy. "I'm sorry," she muttered, feeling embarrassed that she was putting her professor to so much trouble. He was not going to think well of her if she fainted in his office.

"Here," he said kindly, "let me help you." He sat down beside her, his thigh pressing against hers, and she felt his long, cool fingers at her throat. His fingers made quick work of the buttons and she gave a sigh of relief as a pleasant breeze stroked her neck and the top of her bosom. She took a deep breath and saw his eyes move down to her chest and something stir deep within them. With one hand, he swept his hair back from his face, revealing a high, intellectual forehead. One strand of brown hair fell between his eyes and drew her gaze. Her lips parted and she moistened them unconsciously. His eyes sharpened and the half smile upon his face deepened. His cool fingers trailed along her throat as he lifted his hand from her blouse. His touch left a trail of fire on her skin and she gasped, her breath coming quicker as his hand stroked the pulse at her throat.

He smiled again, exposing the tips of his sharp teeth, and then bent his head to her bared breast. His mane of thick brown hair was now positioned immediately below her nose, and its scent almost made her swoon. She was tingling all over, and found herself squirming, pressing her body against his, her legs parting involuntarily. She could no longer think, only feel, and what she felt was like nothing she had ever felt before. Somewhere, in a faraway corner of her mind, a tiny voice was shrilling an alarm, but as the electric pleasure sparked throughout her body, she found that she had no desire to do anything to resist the man now half lying on top of her, his arms encircling her body, his warm lips caressing her throat. She felt his teeth gently nipping at her neck, and the buried alarm signal rang again, but she was too wrapped in sensation to notice.

There was a sharp rapping at the door, and a cheerful voice called out from outside, "Hey, Professor Aizen, are you in there?" There was a pause, and then more knocking. "It's Professor Urahara. I saw you come in earlier; don't tell me you've fallen asleep in there! There's a faculty meeting in half an hour and we're going to vote on funding for the faculty lounge. I think it's really important that we vote to buy new chairs, but I know Professor Kusajishi will make us spend the budget on candy if we don't gather enough votes." He rapped again.

Aizen had moved to the door and opened it. "Forgive me, Professor Urahara; I was in conference with a student."

Orihime looked down, blinking. She was sitting, upright, on the couch, her blouse buttoned all the way up, her skirt neatly arranged, her legs crossed demurely. Her Coleridge essay was in her lap, open to page four, where a passage had been underlined and a question scrawled in an elegant hand in blue ink. Had she fallen asleep?

She looked up to see a man with shaggy blond hair wearing a striped green and white hat, grinning apologetically at her. "Oh, I'm so sorry to interrupt your conference, professor, miss. I'll come back later." He bowed and left.

Aizen looked down at her, his face cold and distant. "I believe, Ms. Inoue, that we have come to the end of any help I can give you today. I trust my comments were useful?"

"Uh, thank you, yes," Orihime stuttered. She really needed to find a way to get more sleep. Hunting vampires half the night and then getting up early to go to school in the morning was not conducive to successful studies, especially if she was going to fall asleep in her professor's office and have such disturbing dreams! She flushed in embarrassment. It was quite wrong of her to drag her innocent professor into her lurid and wholly inappropriate fantasies. "I'm so sorry, professor," she mumbled.

He nodded sternly. "Make sure you make those changes and then return to discuss them with me tomorrow."

"Of course, sir," she promised as she hurriedly gathered her papers together and fled his office without looking him in the eye.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Quarry – Chap. 3**

(Originally posted 11/11/12.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime opened her eyes. She was in her bedroom, damp sheets twisted about her; flushed and sweating from disturbing dreams that she could only half remember. She swung her legs out of bed and moved to the window. Opening the curtains, she stared out at the silent, dark street. She felt restless and wide-awake. It was so hot and stifling in the room. She fumbled at the latch, and then swung the window wide open.

The night air rushed in, and she drew a deep breath of its chill. It was rich with scents, and she breathed them in eagerly, turning her head this way and that, leaning out so that her head and shoulders were fully outside the apartment building. The late fall nights were always so invigorating, and as she leaned further forward and felt the breeze slap her cheeks, her lips turned upward with a surge of happiness.

She inhaled again, marveling at the thick texture of odors in the night air. There were two trees directly outside her window, a maple and an ash, and for the first time she realized that she could detect the difference between their scents. She turned her head to the left and then to the right, noticing that the smell of the maple was more distinct in one direction and the ash in the other. She could also detect a faint whiff of burned transmission fluid from one of the cars parked on the street below, and could hear the slight ticking of its engine as it cooled. Overlaying it all was the heavy odor of asphalt from the road; the masses of damp leaves on the sidewalks exuded spicy odors that teased her nose.

She had always had an excellent sense of smell, even being able to detect her friends at some distance by their intrinsic aroma. But tonight, her nose seemed even sharper than usual. As she inhaled again, she became aware that she could identify the scent of her neighbor sleeping downstairs, his sour sweat wafting up from tiny gaps around his closed window. And she realized there was a family of raccoons in the underbrush below. She tilted her head. She could identify three – no, four individual, acrid tangs in the mélange in the atmosphere.

Sniffing more deeply, she realized she could detect hundreds of humans within the range of her olfactory apparatus. Some of them even seemed familiar. One of them in particular was especially tantalizing. She leaned out even farther and sucked in another breath. Something about that one scent set her heart pounding.

It was alluring, appealing. She breathed in again, focusing on identifying the single thread of fragrance. It was a complex odor, spicy, pulsing with life, warm with just a hint of copper underneath. She climbed onto the windowsill to scent it better. The wind blew her hair back from her face, and her long flannel nightgown billowed about her body.

Suddenly the air seemed warmer as it caressed her skin; she spread her arms and splayed her fingers to welcome the night breeze. She glanced down at the ground three stories below, and then up at the dark sky blazing with icy pinpricks of light. The tantalizing scent was coming from off to the left, toward the center of the city.

She allowed herself to fall forward, spreading her hands to catch the air.

Then she was flapping her arms rapidly, cupping the atmosphere in the webbing between her long fingers, soaring into the night sky. Her body had become smaller, covered in short fur; her two powerful, leathery wings beat the air. She let out a shrill squeak and heard the echoes from all around her, giving her an instant picture of the world beneath and ahead of her. Somehow the transformation seemed perfectly normal. Her building wheeled below her, and out of the many threads of scent rising from the city, she skimmed along a single one, bringing it into focus, reveling as it became more clear, flying in the direction of downtown.

She landed on a stone outcropping of one of the tallest skyscrapers in the center of the city. The window on the very top floor of the building was thrown wide open. She perched on the windowsill; balanced; and felt her body lengthen and shift back into human form.

Her vision sharpened.

There was a man in the room, asleep by himself in the large bed. His scent, musky, spicy and powerful, was almost overwhelming. She crept forward silently, approaching the bed. The room was dark, but she could see perfectly well the pale skin of the man's face, long, dark eyelashes brushing porcelain cheeks, tousled brown hair spread out over the pillow, one strand between his closed eyes. She drew closer. The white skin of his throat gleamed; she could see his pulse throbbing.

She could smell his blood under the skin, its savory, meaty, coppery texture as it rushed around and through his body, nourishing his life force. And all at once she was ravenously hungry.

Silently, she bent forward, her eyes riveted to the pulse on his slender throat. She bared her lips, and she could feel her canines were elongated. With a single, sharp thrust, she had sunk her fangs into the man's throat.

The warm, rich elixir rushed into her mouth, finally slaking some of her ferocious thirst and hunger. She could feel every cell in her body rejuvenating, energy pouring into her like molten gold. She drank and drank.

The man stirred. He opened his eyes and stared directly at her.

Orihime drew back from his throat and returned his gaze. His dark eyes focused on her lips, still slick with his blood. His mouth curled in a slow smile. Then he placed one hand behind her head and pulled her to him with iron strength. His tongue flicked out over her lips and she felt a charge surge through her body. His lips touched hers and then he was kissing her.

It was like nothing she had ever experienced. Based on her limited experience from a couple of dates with boys her own age, she had thought kisses were ordinary. Boring and awkward.

She had been wrong.

All at once, she was caught and transported into a world of sensations she had never dreamed possible. His arms, as strong as steel and warm as blood, held her so securely in place she could not dream of moving. His mouth was like velvet as it wandered over her lips and then all at once he became violent, surging into her, overwhelming her, his tongue penetrating and tasting and possessing every inch of her mouth. Her body felt weak and her core fired with a different kind of hunger. When he finally released her, she gasped and stared into his midnight eyes. Her fingers reached for her own nightgown and in a sudden spasm, she tore it open to the waist. The cool air stroked her bosom and she tingled all over.

His eyes glittered like the night sky and she could feel herself falling into them…

Orihime sat up in her own bed abruptly, her heart thudding in her chest, her body drenched in sweat. She looked around at her familiar bedroom and tried to calm her breathing.

XxXxXxX

"Rangiku, I need your advice." She was sitting on her bed in her apartment a few days later, the late fall sunlight slanting into the room, beside the tall blonde vampire hunter who had first been her mentor and had then become her friend. "I had a really disturbing dream the other night." The older woman cocked her head in inquiry, and Orihime recounted the entire, vivid nightmare to her friend. When she was done, her throat was dry.

She went to the bathroom to get a drink of water. She could still taste the coppery, sweet tang of blood going down her throat, and felt a pang of guilt that she had enjoyed it, had enjoyed the heavy gush of dark pleasure as she pierced the man's throat. With a spark of fear, she pushed down the terrifying thought that part of her still craved the sensation and wanted to repeat it.

"What does it mean, Rangiku? I've never had such a vivid dream before." Climbing back into bed, she hugged her knees to her chest as she stared at her friend's blue eyes. Unlike most of the other vampire hunters, she had often wondered what it was like to be a vampire. Although she fought against them, knew intellectually the menace they posed to humanity, she could not help but feel compassion for the mostly scrawny, ill looking creatures she and her friends hunted down on the nighttime streets of Karakura Town. Once a vampire was turned, the only way they could survive was to drink blood. And she knew all too well that many of them were repulsed by their sudden needs and hungers.

Rangiku was thoughtful. "I don't know, Orihime. I've never heard of anything like that either." Then she grinned. "Unless," she added with a teasing smile, "it's a sign of repressed sexual desire for your hot professor."

Then she ducked, laughing, as Orihime hit her over the head with a pillow.

XxXxXxX

The room was almost pitch dark and very cold. At the far end, a lone figure sat on an elaborately carved chair, his chin propped on his knuckles, apparently deep in thought. The heavy door creaked open, and a rail-thin figure slipped into the room. Fine silver hair fell into eyes that were slitted nearly shut as he glided across the flagstones.

"Ne, Lord Aizen, what do you think you're doing?"

The man in the chair raised his eyes to meet the enigmatic smile on the face of the other. "Hmm? What do you mean?"

"I mean that girl represents a danger to all of our kind, and especially to your goals."

Aizen leaned back in his chair and regarded his subordinate from beneath his lids. "I have the situation under control, Gin." His voice was cold.

"From what I hear, you have quite an elaborate plan set up. I'm surprised you didn't send Ulquiorra to kill her."

The vampire lord stirred on his chair. "Ulquiorra is busy with another errand."

"But then why not send me to kill her? She'll be eliminated, and the danger will be gone instantly."

Aizen's dark eyes fixed on the other man's. "But that would be boring."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Quarry – Chap. 4**

(Originally posted 12/8/12.)

XxXxXxX

"… Ulquiorra has collected all his assigned ingredients for the upcoming ceremony, an' they're all in perfect condition," Gin reported, standing alone before Aizen in the vast throne room. He scratched his nose and tilted his head to one side. "Now, Grimmjow… hasn't had the same results."

The brown-haired vampire sighed and leaned one elbow on the armrest of his throne. "Did Grimmjow refuse to acquire the items?"

Gin's smile widened slightly. "Naw, he went out to get 'em all right. As I'm sure ya knew, he thought it was a lotta fun." He dropped his hand to his side and stroked the hilt of his sword. "But for the first one, his attack musta' been so violent that the bone was completely shattered. When he brought it to my chambers, he'd stuck it in a plastic bag that was so full of blood an' mess that I couldn't even find it at first." He wrinkled his nose. "When I finally extracted it, it was completely mangled. Couldn't be used at all." He shook his head slowly. "The other two weren't as bad. There were tooth marks on one of the long bones but the cartilage was still attached. I think they're usable though not ideal."

"No. I won't tolerate further disobedience." Aizen shook his head firmly. "Have Kaname discipline Grimmjow. I don't want to be bothered with it right now." His nostrils flared. "And then send him out again to collect the required objects, more carefully this time," he instructed. "For this ritual, I need perfect specimens."

Gin eyed him narrowly. "Ya didn' say that eight years ago when we did it before, the last time there was a full moon on Halloween."

Aizen rocked back on his throne and smiled, saying nothing. Gin scrutinized him.

"Nah, don' tell me that you're doin' one of the variations. You tol' me they were a waste of time, they were just too hard to get right." He continued to regard his master, and then his eyebrows rose slightly. "You _are_ doin' one, aren't you? Which one?"

Aizen looked off into the distance, the secretive smile still on his lips. "It's different this time. I believe I have all the components required for a successful attempt."

The silver-haired vampire stared at him for a long while. Then— "Naw. You couldn't be doing that one. Not the Ouken Variation. It's too challenging and complex a spell, even for you. If it fails, the backlash would probably destroy you. Also, it requires a willing and knowledgeable sacrifice. You can't hypnotize, trick, or drug them. They have to walk up to that altar knowing you're going to cut out their soul, use them as a gateway." His eyes slitted more tightly. "You can't be thinking anyone would ever agree to it willingly. It's never been done, not in a thousand years."

"The spell was successfully attempted over a millennium ago, by the one we both know," Aizen said placidly. "So it is possible."

"We don' really know exactly what happened that night," argued Gin. "And what about the others? You know the other clans will band together to try to stop you at the ceremony. They won't want you to gain that much power over them. You can't keep the location a secret, not with the Ouken Variation. They'll attack you when you're most vulnerable, at the height of the ritual."

"I've thought of that, and I have a plan to counteract any attempts they might make. You forget my most recent strategy."

"You can't use the Ho—" Gin shut his mouth before he could let slip any more information.

Aizen gave a throaty chuckle. "I thought you had been spying, Gin. It makes no difference now. I'm sure you also saw the increased power I've channeled into Kyouka Suigetsu. I've taken my abilities beyond what any vampire ever has."

"Ha!" Gin wagged his chin in astonishment. Then he snickered with reluctant admiration. "I gotta admit, Aizen-sama, there's no one as audacious as you." His voice dropped to a whisper. "So that's why ya wouldn' let me kill her…"

The vampire lord regarded him from under lowered lids. "Might this cause you to change your plans about whether or not to remain at my side, hmm?" he asked softly. "It might seem somewhat foolhardy to betray a god, eh, Gin?"

The silver-haired vampire managed to blanch despite his already pale skin. How could his master know his most secret thoughts? His Adam's apple bobbed once before his face split in an insouciant grin. "Ne, I would never even think of betrayal, Lord Aizen," he said cheerfully. "Ya know I'll be at your side forever." His voice lowered and he continued, almost to himself, "An' if you can convince that girl to let you use her for this, I wouldn't miss it for the world. If that's really what you're plannin' and not another trick…"

Aizen said nothing, his shadowed features absolutely expressionless. Not a glimmer of emotion was visible on his face or in his aura.

XxXxXxX

_"All men delight in sensual luxury, all men enjoy revenge; and most exult over the tortures they can never feel – flattering their secret peace with others' pain. But I delight in nothing else. I love the sight of agony, and the sense of joy, when this shall be another's, and that mine. And I have no remorse and little fear, which are, I think, the checks of other men." _

Orihime closed her eyes as the sonorous, seductive voice filled the classroom. Aizen reading poetry aloud was almost too much for her to take, that deep, elegant voice like dark music ensnaring her soul. When the poetry was from one of Percy Bysshe Shelley's tragedies, containing the beautiful, tormented utterances of creatures impelled beyond human endurance, the effect became overpowering. She pressed her thighs together, trying to block the clandestine thrill that made her core ache and her blood burn every time her unattainable professor spoke in that luscious, sinfully dark voice…

The bell rang.

Startled, Orihime opened her eyes and saw that she was not the only one to be nearly hypnotized by her professor's oratory. All around her, she saw flushed faces and shifting glances as Aizen closed the book on the lectern and said calmly, "Please finish reading _The Cenci_ by Thursday and write a short essay on the moral issues raised in the play."

The students gathered their books and notes and began to file out of the room. Orihime lagged behind, deliberately taking her time to arrange her notes in her binder and slide her books into her backpack one by one, until everyone else had left the classroom.

She made it to the lectern just as Aizen had packed up his satchel and started walking to the door. "Professor! Please, do you have a few minutes to talk?"

He turned and gazed directly at her. As always, whenever those deep brown eyes were fixed upon her, she felt as though she were pinned and wriggling on a card, unable to move, her most secret thoughts and emotions laid bare. She flushed. "I warned you, Ms. Inoue, that the subjects of this class could be quite… mature. If you are not prepared to discuss incest, patricide, and torture, perhaps this is not the right class for you." He swung the satchel over his shoulder and turned his back on her, preparing to depart.

"No, no. That's not it." Orihime fluttered after him. "I'm mature enough to handle those topics," she protested. "I'm more experienced than you think," she went on, lifting her chin.

He stopped, turned to face her, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow in an ironic gesture. "Is that so?" he inquired smoothly. "You have personal experience with such matters?"

"No! I mean I—" Flustered, Orihime stammered to a stop as he continued to regard her with a sardonic expression. Then she gathered herself together. "I want to discuss my essay on _Alastor_."

Aizen stood motionless, gazing down at her for a moment. Then he said, "Come to my office. I have a few minutes." He strode out the door and Orihime had to scurry to keep up with him.

Once in his office, Orihime felt her courage wavering once again. Aizen dominated the room from his high-backed desk chair as he paged through her latest essay, his face stern. "Ms. Inoue, your interpretation of the following lines is somewhat… unusual." He lifted his eyes to capture hers, reciting the poem from memory, his deep, melodic voice caressing the words. "_The dim and horned moon hung low, and poured a sea of luster on the horizon's verge/ that overflowed its mountains_." He raised his eyebrows at her in inquiry. Her cheeks had pinked lightly as he declaimed. "But nevertheless, rather… intriguing." He smiled slightly, placing his chin on his knuckles as he observed her. "Your view is diametrically opposed to Gibson's, you know, and he is one of the leading scholars in the field. Still, I thought the evidence you gave in support of your analysis quite effective."

Orihime blushed further, scarcely able to believe that her professor had complimented her for the first time. "Thank you, sir," she mumbled, studying her hands folded in her lap. There was silence in the overly warm office for a moment. She dimly heard the voices of students shouting from the grassy lawn below his window.

"Look at me," he commanded. He had removed his glasses, and his deep brown eyes bored into her. "You should take your positions with more confidence," he continued, "as you appear to have quite a sensitive and intelligent mind." He smiled at her and Orihime thought she would faint from delight.

"So tell me, how would you interpret the following passage?" He eyed her now with challenge. "_In thy devastating omnipotence, art king of this frail world, from the red field of slaughter, from the reeking hospital, the patriot's sacred couch, the snowy bed of innocence, the scaffold and the throne, a mighty voice invokes thee. Ruin calls his brother Death._"

She sighed, and then the words slipped out against her will. "That's so lovely. When you read, you can make the most gruesome words sound so beautiful."

Aizen leaned back to regard her, amused. "You don't think the words in and of themselves are beautiful? Shelley was one of the finest poets writing in the English language."

"Of course I think so. But I disagree with both Gibson's interpretation, and," she added boldly, "with all due respect, with yours, sir."

His face went blank and she swallowed. Had she offended him? But he said nothing, merely tipping his head to one side.

"Go on then," Aizen rested an elbow on his desk, his face on his palm, long fingers splayed across his cheek, regarding her thoughtfully.

Orihime gathered up her courage and began, remembering the insight she had flashed on in the shower one morning and the argument she had painstakingly crafted over long hours in the library. "As you've discussed in class, Shelley read Coleridge, who often used the imagery of the moon in his poetry to represent…" She was off and away, the conviction of her argument taking her past her embarrassment at contradicting her professor.

He observed her carefully as she spoke, and when she paused to take a breath, he pounced. "But in this case the imagery is subverted by structure of the poem. Additionally, in _Paradise Lost,_ Milton associates bituminous lakes with Hell."

"But—"

They argued back and forth for a good while longer. To her surprise, Orihime found she was enjoying the verbal sparring with her professor. He had an encyclopedic knowledge of the subject, frequently buttressing his points with lengthy quotes from lesser-known works from the poets they were studying. She could barely keep her mind on her line of reasoning as the lines dropped like jewels from his lush lips, that mellifluous voice rising and falling in perfect rhythm.

Finally, he had overcome the last of her contentions, and she sighed and sat back, defeated but oddly contented. He had taken her seriously, the scorn vanishing from his tone. She might not get a very good grade on this essay, but at least she felt she had held her own. She waited, a little nervous, for his final remark, bracing herself for it to be scathing.

He regarded her for a long moment with his dark, brooding eyes, and she could hardly breathe. Then he shifted in his chair and sighed gently. "Ms. Inoue," he said, "I am impressed. That was an incisive analysis." He paused, stroking one long finger down her essay. "You have made excellent progress in this class."

Orihime's mouth fell open at the unaccustomed praise. Blushing, she sat up straighter. "I've learned a lot from you." Her eyes were shining. "You're a wonderful teacher. I'm really looking forward to further training from you."

"Hmm." Aizen's lips curled up briefly. "An interesting choice of words." He contemplated her blushing face and abruptly got up from behind his desk, gliding over to stand next to her. She clutched the armrests nervously, her gaze following his movements. "_I mixed aweful talk and asking looks_," he murmured, leaning down until his face was only inches from hers, "_with my most innocent love until strange tears/uniting with those breathless kisses, made such magic as compels the charmed night to render up thy charge._" His breath tickled her ear. "How would you interpret those lines?"

"I –" Her words caught in her throat. He was standing too close, too close. She was breathing in his indescribable odor and once again she felt that dizzy thrill she so often caught in his presence. He raised his hand to gently stroke her cheek, his fingertips brushing across her skin and leaving a tingling arousal in their wake. He sat on the armrest and she felt the warmth of his body against hers. He smiled down at her with a hint of wickedness.

"My dear," he murmured. "Why don't you simply admit what we both know? What we have been dancing around since the day you first entered this office?" He bent down and his lips brushed, feather-light, across the rim of her ear. Orihime sat, panicked, still, unable to move or believe this was happening. His mouth traveled down her jaw line, trailing gentle kisses as it went, until finally he sealed his mouth directly over hers.

It was as though she had plunged into a conflagration. His kiss scorched her mouth, blazing and demanding, and without quite realizing what she was doing, Orihime found herself parting her lips and submitting. Frantically, a few stray thoughts and cautions darted through her mind: this was wrong. It was immoral. He was her teacher. He was far older than her. She should push him away. But some deep, hidden part of her would not let her move away. Some part of her realized she wanted him, had somehow wanted him desperately for a long time. It came to her in a rush how lonely she had been, how much she had craved this fitting together of one body to another, one soul to another. His hands tangled in her hair as he claimed her mouth and her body in a way that demanded her absolute submission. Her hands came up to stroke his thick, soft hair as she allowed him to bend her head backwards; his tongue swept through her mouth and the flash fire in her core ignited her entire body. She clutched him as though she would never let him go.

XxXxXxX

**A/N:** All poetry quotes are from Percy Bysshe Shelley, _The Cenci_, and _Alastor; or, The Spirit of Solitude_. I do not own these works either, alas.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Quarry – Chap. 5**

(Originally posted 2/3/2013.)

XxXxXxX

"Shall we go for a walk?"

Orihime looked up at her tall, immaculately dressed professor as he stood with one hand on the doorknob of his office. Immediately, a flush suffused her face and her whole body felt overheated.

She should say no. Ever since that fateful day only a few weeks ago when Aizen had kissed her in his office, she had reluctantly embarked on a wholly illicit relationship with him, spending every free minute sneaking off to have meals with him in dark, tiny restaurants, skipping classes to pass afternoons doing things she knew she should not be doing in the large and elegant bed in his penthouse apartment, visiting him in his office on a regular basis for "extra lessons" that had more than once been interrupted by Professor Urahara, who had started giving her strange looks when he passed her in the hall.

She was exhausted. She had insisted on being back in her own bedroom every night, so that when a call came, she would still be available to protect the other humans. He had raised his eyebrows, but apparently assumed it was due to her reluctance to let anyone know about their relationship. Between keeping the secret of her vampire hunting activities from Aizen, and lying to her friends about a romance that was oh so wrong, she hardly knew which way was up anymore. She was getting by on barely any sleep and a lot of coffee.

And she knew all too well what Aizen meant when he asked her to 'take a walk.' The last time she had gone walking with him, they had ended up in a secluded clearing in the forest. He had brought a picnic basket, and had spread out a blanket. That day, she had been determined to tell him that this had to stop, that it was wrong, that it was bad for both of them.

Yet, somehow, he had talked her into a glass of wine, and then another, and the next thing she knew, she was naked, his long fingers tracing patterns over her breasts and all over her body, his lips caressing hers, his tongue setting her on fire, until she succumbed completely, ending up gasping with pleasure underneath him again.

She couldn't resist him. Even though she knew it was immoral, dishonest, and simply wrong.

As she had lain on the satin blanket, her body warmed by his even in the cool air of the forest, she had whispered to him, "We have to stop this. I can't go on." Two tears leaked from her eyes and tickled her skin to her hairline.

"Hush now," he murmured, kissing and licking at her tears. "Did you not enjoy it? Do I not give you pleasure? "

She pushed herself up on one elbow. "Of course you do!" She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head with misery. "That's not the point. This is wrong, Sousuke. It's against every moral code. And you know it too."

She felt his tongue on her closed eyelids. "Mmm," his voice vibrated in his throat. "Morals and ethics are only restrictions on a soul's potential," he lectured in that rich, dark voice that always seemed to resonate within the deepest parts of her body. "I do not accept them, and neither should you."

She almost growled with frustration. "Our ethical code is what makes us human," she insisted. "Without our morals, we are nothing but animals."

He opened his eyes. "Truly? We are all driven by our emotions, our needs for comfort, pleasure, and security. Human civilization is a rational exchange of favors. You and I," he lifted her chin with one finger until her gaze was captured by his deep brown eyes, "give each other pleasure, and so we seek out each other's company." His eyes smoldered as they rested on her and she could not help but be secretly thrilled by the intense passion she saw within him. "We challenge each other intellectually, and physically…" He smiled wickedly, then ran a long finger through her folds and she gasped, clutching at him. "Physically, we share an unusual bond."

"No!" With all her strength, she pushed his hand away, ignoring the twinge of disappointment she felt when he let his hand fall to his side, a bemused and somewhat melancholy expression on his face.

Sadness flooded his eyes and he looked away. "Orihime," he asked, "do you not have feelings for me? Because I am completely smitten with you." She gave a sharp breath as he continued, "I don't think I could survive without you."

And once again, she had fallen to comforting him, and somehow it had ended with them making love once more.

In between the intervals of intense pleasure, they argued. They discussed literature, philosophy, politics, art, and, over and over again, morality. Orihime had to admit that despite the clear immorality of a teacher sleeping with his student, she was receiving an exceptional education from him. He had encyclopedic knowledge and was a superb debater. She could feel her mind stretching and becoming sharper with each passing day; the intellectual challenge of sparring with him was exhilarating and stimulating.

With her newfound knowledge and skills, she found herself becoming more confident in the discussions with her friends. More and more, she found herself on the winning side of every argument, with the result that she had become the de facto leader of their little group of vampire hunters. She could argue circles around Ichigo now, and more than once she had caught an expression of rueful bafflement on his face as she once again triumphed in a discussion of strategy or tactics.

But now… she stared up at Aizen's beautiful face, determined this time to resist. She would not go on another "walk" with him today.

In a moment, perhaps seeing something in her eyes, he had dragged her into his office and closed the door. Then his lips were on hers and she felt the flame ignite within her.

One kiss and she was pressed to him, suddenly ravenous with a hunger that she had told herself over and over again she could deny. Instead, she wound her fingers into his hair, her tongue seeking his, her body shaking with craving so that when he threw her on the couch and scrabbled at the buttons on her jeans, she found her own trembling fingers doing the same to tear off his clothes.

Urahara had not interrupted them that time.

An hour later, they were walking along the forest trail, Aizen languidly swinging a picnic basket while Orihime had the satin blanket stuffed into her backpack.

She sighed. Perhaps she might as well give up. It didn't seem like any of her resolutions to end their liaison were going to have any effect.

Aizen smirked at her as the last light of the late fall day faded from the sky and the trail became darker as they walked into the deeper undergrowth. The air was crisp and cool, but somehow she knew it would not bother her when they lay down together in their special clearing. The spicy scent of dried leaves crunching under her feet tickled her nose. A slight frown creased her forehead.

She looked up at her companion, his face a pale oval in the dimness. His hand curled around hers, his fingers teasing the inside of her wrist, and she sighed. His stride was so graceful that she just wanted to watch him move. She opened her mouth to announce that she had capitulated.

But just then, there was a tingling of danger across her shoulder blades. She stopped suddenly. Her head lifted, her nostrils flaring.

"What is it?" Aizen's voice was calm as always as he gazed at her with a faintly quizzical frown on his face.

Orihime's mind was spinning with horror. Her two secrets were about to clash. Her senses were tingling more vigorously now. She could feel the onrushing danger as warnings clanged in her head.

A vampire was approaching, moving with the preternatural speed of its kind, loping through the underbrush, unerringly homing in on their location.

Sudden panic bloomed in her heart. She had become careless between the haze of lust and the lack of sleep. They were alone in the forest; she could sense no one else nearby. The vampire was alone, unlike what had become more typical lately, with the rise of the new vampire lord who remained shrouded in mystery, multiple reports of his presence coming to Orihime and her friends, but not a word on his location or appearance.

She glanced at her professor. There was no way she could hide this from him; the vampire was too close for her to run ahead to meet it. He was still looking at her with that oddly endearing, puzzled look on his face. "What's wrong, Orihime?"

An earsplitting wail rent the night air, and then the creature landed before them on the trail, crouching, its hands raised, its eyes gleaming in the low light. Orihime's eyes narrowed. The vampire had matted, tangled long hair, ragged, bloodstained clothes, curved and broken nails like claws. Its eyes were wild. It took a single step forward, hissing, and bared its fangs.

Feral, she realized. There were some vampires that completely lost all rationality, forgetting every memory, losing every bit of intelligence they had held as humans. But they still retained an animal cunning, Orihime reminded herself as it slowly began to circle, moving to the right so it could attack the smaller prey first.

Aizen had sucked in his breath, his eyes wide with astonished fear at the sight of the inhuman creature before them, and then he pushed Orihime back, stepping in front of her. The light glinted on a blade he suddenly held in his hand.

"No," Orihime cried at his attempt at chivalry. The vampire would destroy him, a mere human. She could not let him die.

Moving with her own enhanced speed, she tugged at her purse. The knobby clasps fell apart to become two sharpened wooden stakes. Dropping the purse and darting forward, she shoved her professor backwards with the inhuman strength of a vampire hunter. He stumbled, not expecting her to be so strong, and fell with a cry, ending up sitting on the ground. She jumped forward, the first stake in her hand, aiming straight for the vampire's heart.

The feral creature growled, fangs glistening, and spun to one side with an incredible quickness, and she cursed to herself. She was off balance and unprepared. Idiot! she berated herself. She had been spending too much time bemoaning her trivial romantic dilemma, when people's lives were at risk. And now, her lover might be killed because of her carelessness. She should have told him, she suddenly realized. All this time she was arguing about morality with him, when she herself had been lying to him about what she was, about the danger she was exposing him to. Guilt speared through her with ferocity.

She feinted backwards and to the side, away from where her professor was still sitting on the ground, his slow human senses just beginning to register his indignation and fear. She had to draw the vampire away from him; he was defenseless. She gave a wailing cry to capture its attention and launched herself forward.

The vampire shrieked and sliced at her with its claws. She felt a sharp stinging on her forearm, followed by wetness dripping down her arm and slicking her hand. She could hear her own harsh breathing as she pulled back. She took a firmer grasp on the stake and sidestepped the vampire's next vicious blow. Darting in underneath the creature's upraised arm, the stake gripped tightly in her fingers, she put all her strength into a fierce blow directly at the creature's heart.

She felt the stake pierce its body even as its other fist crashed into her skull with shocking force. She stumbled backwards, her head ringing with pain, shaking it quickly to get herself back into focus. Her other hand brought up the second stake as the vampire, the light of enraged fury in its eyes, charged her once again.

But before it could complete its attack, it stiffened, placed one hand to its chest where the stake still protruded from its heart, and slammed to the ground.

Still trying to catch her breath, Orihime remained in a defensive posture, waiting to see if this could be a trick. There was no movement from the creature on the ground.

Panting, Orihime slowly straightened, her hand falling to her side.

From behind her, she heard Aizen's mellifluous voice. "My dear Orihime, whatever did you just do? And what was _that_?"

XxXxXxX

**A/N:** Sorry about the delay in posting. My RL has been really, really awful lately. But I've been getting so many lovely reviews from my readers that I felt inspired to write. Thank you!

So, what do you think? Was that attack planned, or was it an accident? And how is Aizen going to react to this development?


	6. Chapter 6

**The Quarry – Chap. 6**

**A/N**: Sorry for the long delay! I've been insanely busy with work and dealing with family stuff. But I should have more time now, so expect more chapters to be posted relatively soon.

(Originally posted 6/30/2013.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime took a step backwards, her heart pounding not just from the sudden physical exertion. The clearing was still; the vampire lay lifeless on the ground before her. She took a deep, shuddering breath. The cool air was redolent of the forest undergrowth, overlaid with a faint reek of decay and blood from the newly dead creature. She extended her senses. All was well. The creature had indeed been alone. Crazed and feral, it had been driven by a desperate search for sustenance. Her heart flooded with compassion for the human it had once been. He had certainly never wanted to become a mindless beast. But that was not all she felt settling in her heart.

She did not want to turn around and face her lover. She was overcome with guilt and deeply ashamed. Here she had been pretending the entire time to be so morally superior to him, when in reality her careless attitude had almost gotten him killed.

Not to mention... she had heard many stories from other vampire hunters, of friendships lost and family members estranged when they heard the truth, that the loved one they thought was human was in reality something wholly other. That knowledge tore away the comforting curtain of disbelief in the supernatural, revealing to them that the apparently familiar world hid a terrifying darkness in every corner, that there was no safety, that violent death was lurking in the shadows. It was that knowledge that was the worst; now every time those ordinary human family members and friends saw the vampire hunter, they were reminded of how scary the world really was.

That terrifying knowledge often led them to run away, to disavow any connection with the person who brought the fear to life.

Despite the fact that only a few hours ago, she had been steeling herself to break up with Aizen, suddenly, perversely, she didn't want to lose him now. She felt a sob bubbling up in her throat.

"Orihime?" His voice was gentle, and she gritted her teeth and turned around.

His hair was disheveled, and his glasses slightly askew. But when she met his eyes, she did not see the terror she had been expecting. His expression was calm, if slightly puzzled. She took a deep breath. How could he be so serene?

His eyes narrowed and he frowned. "Are you hurt?" He was staring at her forearm. She lifted the arm and stared at it in surprise. A deep gash had laid open much of her forearm. The vampire had clawed her but she had forgotten until now. Staring at the wound, she bit her lip. She would have to heal it, she realized. Feral vampires' claws were often filthy, and it was likely that the wound would become infected without healing.

But she was not sure if he, an ordinary human, could handle yet another supernatural power at this moment. So she merely smiled, pulled off her scarf, and wrapped it around her arm. "Not a problem!" she said gamely. "Are you okay?"

He was staring at her with a very odd expression on his face. "I'm quite fine," he replied. He took a few unhurried steps to the side of the dead vampire, and stood gazing down at it, noting the discolored yellow fangs, the filthy claws, and the end of the stake still protruding from its chest. "But I think you owe me some explanations."

"Um, yeah." Orihime squirmed. "Well, maybe we should sit down." She gestured to a fallen log at the edge of the clearing, and Aizen followed her and seated himself gracefully, quirking one interested eyebrow at her.

"You see," she began, "that creature is a vampire."

His eyebrows climbed higher up his forehead, and Orihime winced. "Uh, yes, they really exist." She waved a hand at the dead creature. "What else do you think it could be?"

"Don't worry," Aizen replied. "I believe you. But what I am more concerned with is you. How can a person of your size take on and defeat an animal maddened with rage and possessing supernatural strength?" He gave her a slow smile and half-lidded his eyes. "Although, I must admit," he murmured, "that I have rarely seen anything sexier." He moved closer to her, something burning in the depths of his deep brown eyes. "The grace and power of your movements… the precision and intent of your killing blow to the heart…" She saw the tip of his tongue touch his lips.

She swallowed, and amidst the storm of emotions roaring in her brain, a tiny voice wondered how he could understand and believe so easily, much less still feel attraction to her in this state, disheveled and still dripping blood from her wound. But he was looking at her with a strange intensity and, somewhat disturbed, she had to respond. "I'm, uh… I'm a vampire hunter, and it turns out," she waved her hands helplessly, "that I have supernatural powers as well. It's kind of like my calling to help save the world from vampires." His expression was very hard to read; she guessed it was something like vaguely dubious, so she continued.

Grimly ignoring the throbbing pain in her arm, she explained, "I had always wondered why I was perpetually hungry and why I ate about as much as four normal people." Aizen raised his eyebrows at that. He himself had commented on Orihime's unusual appetite. "It turns out there was a reason I need all this energy. It was a little over a year ago that I was walking home one night with a couple of my friends when suddenly this man—well, he turned out not to be a man—this _creature_ came out of a dark alley. He had his claws lifted and his fangs bared and he went after my friend, who was going to fight him with his bare fists."

Orihime paused for breath, and Aizen leaned closer and slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders as her eyes reflected the memory of her fear of that long-ago night.

"Then suddenly, from out of nowhere, came this tiny, black-haired girl. She swooped down on the vampire with a stake in her hand and just like that he was dead. Then a few moments later he had turned to dust."

Aizen raised his eyebrows again and turned to glance at where the vampire's body had lain. Indeed, it was gone; there was nothing left but Orihime's wooden purse clasp lying innocently amidst a smudge of grey dust on the bare ground.

Orihime continued, "After we recovered from our shock, she gathered us around her and said we all had an unusual latent ability; we all could become abnormally strong, strong enough to fight supernatural creatures, that we could develop a very fast metabolism, inhuman speed and senses, and as such we were some of the few who could actually make a difference in the world and help save people from these monsters. She explained that, after five hundred years, vampires were rising again, and in past eras, whenever that happened, certain humans would be born who could fight them. But not without help."

She swallowed. Her eyes were no longer on the man beside her but lost in a memory. "She showed us this dark blue jewel about the size of a walnut, and said that this jewel had the ability to unlock our powers and enable us to manifest them to fight against the scourge of vampires in our midst. She said that the monsters were growing in power and would continue to do so for the upcoming years.

"We were all taken aback, as you might imagine," she said, glancing up at Aizen to see how he was taking this story. His face was calm; and, encouraged, she continued. "We weren't altogether sure we wanted to sign up. She told us we could take a couple of days to decide; if we truly wanted to protect others, all we had to do was wish for it in our hearts and the jewel would grant our wishes." She gave a long sigh. Her arm was throbbing but she barely noticed it, so caught up was she in her memories. This was the first time she had ever told the story to anyone. It was almost a relief, to unburden herself at last.

Aizen was listening attentively, with an expression of totally absorbed attention on his face. It was another of his endearing characteristics, Orihime thought, that he was one of the best listeners she had ever met.

She continued, "So my friends and I went home, and we had a long, long discussion that night. At first Ichi- my friend didn't want any part of it. He said he only wanted to protect his friends and not random people. Then Ur- my other friend pointed out that if Ru- I mean that woman, hadn't protected us from the vampire, we might be dead now." She stopped to catch her breath. Why was it so easy to tell her story, when she thought it would be so difficult? It must be because Aizen expressed such interest and sympathy as he listened. She had expected to see judgment, distrust, suspicion, fear on his face. Instead, all she wanted to do was pour out the story.

"By the end of the night, we had all decided to accept Rukia's offer," she went on. "So we all went to sleep with the same wish in our hearts, and in the morning, everything was different."

She paused, and Aizen prompted her gently. "How was everything different?"

"Well, for starters, I could see really well, and I was stronger, and faster, and I had new senses—" She shook her head. "It was so strange. But Rukia met us and began to train us."

"How did she train you?" asked Aizen softly.

"She took us to a secret location where she trained all the vampire hunters," Orihime began, "and let us gaze into the jewel once more. She said it had many abilities, but primarily it granted wishes of souls who wanted to protect others." She fell silent for a moment, remembering.

Aizen asked, "Do you know where the jewel is now?"

Orihime turned her wide eyes to Aizen's calm brown ones. "I assume Rukia still has it with her. She said it was too dangerous to leave unguarded, and it was important that it not fall into the wrong hands."

"So you don't know where Rukia is. Do you have a way to contact her?"

Orihime shook her head. "She checks in on us every now and then. We can send her a message; Ichigo sent her one after we heard about the new vampire lord in the area who is gathering all the vamps under his control." Dimly, it occurred to her that she was babbling; saying things that Aizen likely had no interest in, or maybe even revealing secrets that she shouldn't be mentioning… but surely she could trust her lover, right?

"Oh, I guess you wouldn't be interested in all this." She glanced down sheepishly at her hands.

Aizen took her hand and clasped his fingers around hers. "On the contrary," he said with a warm, gentle smile. "Anything that affects my love matters to me and is profoundly interesting." He bent his head and kissed her lips softly. "I can see you are distressed by this and have not had anyone to speak with for a long time." He kissed her again, more deeply this time. Her mind was spinning, and Aizen's warm, silky mouth on hers was overwhelming… she could no longer think rationally. He was demanding as always, taking her even more possessively than usual, so that she could do nothing but submit to his kiss… and this time there was an underlying anticipation she could feel in his body vibrating against hers, as though he were indeed highly aroused. At first, part of her thought it was strange, but then she forgot everything, even the pain in her arm.

The kiss went on a long time. Afterwards, as he drew back from her with desire still flaring in his eyes, she gazed up at him, still gasping. "Aren't you afraid, or angry about all this?"

"Hmmm?" he asked, exhaling slowly and returning his hands to his sides as he saw her worried expression. His face took on a look of concern and he tipped his head to one side. "Angry? Why?"

"I mean, you must realize now that the world is a dangerous place. I couldn't sleep for weeks after I first learned the truth." She pleated her skirt with her fingers, then looked down and whispered, "And sometimes I still wish that I didn't know." She stopped, and then after a very long pause, whispered even more quietly, "I hope you don't hate me for telling you."

Aizen said nothing. After a while, she looked up at him and waited. Waited for his expression to become fearful, angry, betrayed. For it to close off, for her to know she had lost him.

But instead, he laughed.

She stared at him in shock and fury as the merriment flooded his eyes. He stilled and turned to face her fully. "My dear Orihime," he murmured, taking her hand in his, "I always knew there was a reason I was so drawn to you."

"What do you mean?" She wasn't sure what to feel.

He laughed again as he stroked her wrist delicately with long fingers.

"You see, I am a supernatural creature as well."

XxXxXxX

**A/N:** Thanks for all your great reviews while I was buried in work. They really made me feel inspired to keep going with this story. It means so much to me to get such terrific support.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Quarry – Chap. 7**

**A/N:** Thank you so much for all those wonderful and FAST reviews of chapter 6, and for all your support of this story even though I've been gone for so long. Your reviews inspired me to get started writing on another chapter right away.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. I had way too much fun writing it, especially because I got a chance to reuse some of my favorite AiHime lines from canon. **Warning**: lemony at the end. ;)

This chapter is dedicated to **Flare-Flare** for her birthday! Happy birthday, **Flarie**, and thank you for being such a great friend and AiHime fan! *hugs*

(Originally posted 7/6/2013.)

XxXxXxX

"You're what?" Orihime stared at him in shock.

He lidded his eyes. "I am, like you, a supernatural creature."

"B-but… how can that be? You aren't a regular human then?"

A cool, jasmine-scented breeze swirled around the clearing where the two sat on a fallen log. Bright moonlight dappled the ground and threw Aizen's elegant features into sharp relief. He cocked his head to one side and regarded her.

"Come, Orihime, surely you have noticed certain of my unique abilities… such as my superhuman stamina, for example." He gave her a lascivious smile and she blushed. His fingers teased her throat, making her shiver, and he licked his lips, slowly and deliberately, watching her the entire time.

She shoved down her confusion and sat up straight. "But then what are you?"

He paused to study her face. "I am a shapeshifter."

"…what?" She wrinkled her forehead.

"I would be happy to prove it to you," he murmured. "Shall I?" He gestured at himself.

Trembling slightly, she nodded.

His eyes steady on her, he leaned back, stretching languidly. As she watched, his features melted and blurred, and all at once she was facing a brown-eyed kitsune spirit with fox ears, tufted tail waving saucily over his shoulder.

Her eyes widened, and the kitsune twitched a pointed ear and grinned at her. Then she saw a dark playfulness enter his eyes, and a moment later, she was sitting next to a strikingly handsome vampire with pale skin and glittering eyes.

She drew back in distress and he laughed, his features morphing into those of a young girl, his hair lengthening and lightening until it hung halfway down his back in an auburn flood. As her mouth dropped open in astonishment, she saw the face she saw every day in the mirror. He had turned into an exact simulacrum of herself; the only thing that looked odd was the knowing smirk on his face.

"Change back," she said, disquieted.

His smirk widened, but a minute later, he was himself again.

"You –you— ah, this is your true form?"

He glanced down at his body, the elegant, long limbs and layers of lean muscle, and then raised his huge, deep brown eyes to bore into hers. "Fortunately, yes."

She stared at him. "Arrogant much?"

"When have you known me to be otherwise?"

She couldn't help herself. She suddenly started laughing, and the next thing she knew, he had scooped her into his arms. He held her tightly as her heart gradually started slowing down. She was panting with relief, not sure why it was so terrifying and disturbing to see him change forms so easily.

Then he stroked one hand gently down her arm and she winced at the pain. He noticed and said, "I'm sorry about your wound. I'm afraid healing is not one of my supernatural abilities, so I can't help you there."

She shook her head. The repeated emotional shocks of the evening, plus the effects of the tainted scratch, the blood loss and pain, had made her stupid. "What am I thinking?" she said half to herself. "I am a healer as well."

Still curled in Aizen's arms (and oh, how comfortable it was to rest there), she raised her healing powers and focused on her own forearm, wincing as she realized how deep the wound was; the poison had gone systemic and was on its way to making her very ill. She should have healed herself right away.

It took more energy than usual to raise her powers, but somehow it was helpful to be cradled in Aizen's embrace. He watched very carefully as the golden light of her healing shield appeared, and she noted that his attention was highly focused on the process. It must be that he was concerned for her and was using his own psychic senses to make sure she was healing herself properly.

Slowly, she allowed her magic to course through her entire body, cleansing it of the vampiric taint, making certain her entire bloodstream ran clean again, before returning her attention to her arm and gradually encouraging the tissues to knit themselves back together. Starting from deep within the wound, the infected blood bubbled up and gushed out of her arm; gradually the gaping tear began to narrow, the two ragged edges of the wound melting back into each other, until the skin of her forearm was once again smooth and unbroken.

She exhaled deeply and slumped against him, exhausted by her use of the energies, but comfortable and free from pain at last. He stroked her hair, idly. "That is a very impressive healing technique, my dear." She could feel the vibration of his voice against her cheek, and somehow it was so relaxing and comforting. Her eyelids drooped. "I've seen other healers, but you appear to use a different method. It almost looked like some kind of time reversal. Do you suppose you could explain it to me?" His voice was soft, monotonous.

Drowsily, she responded, "My power isn't ordinary healing, you see. A friend of Rukia's thought it was temporal regression, as you suggested, but when they studied it more, they said it was different than anything they had ever seen. They called it 'phenomenon rejection': it seems I can reverse any event and restore both living creatures and objects to a previous state."

Her eyes were closed now, and she didn't see Aizen's eyebrows lift. "Phenomenon rejection?" he mused, stroking her hair back from her face. "That is a very interesting power, young lady," he murmured, gazing off into the darkness of the forest.

Orihime's breathing changed as she relaxed into sleep. Aizen continued stroking her hair, savoring the pleasant scent as the pores on the crown of her head opened when she fell deeper into sleep, her delicate fragrance teasing Aizen's nostrils. He reclined against the bole of a tree, enjoying the moment of peace in the quiet clearing. She was so foolishly trusting, he mused as he continued to caress her soft, rosy skin. The aroma of her freshly cleansed blood was tantalizing, and he bent his head and ran his teeth lightly over her pulse point, licking at her skin. He slipped his other hand under her blouse and cupped her breast, soft, soft, soft like a heavenly cloud. She stirred in her sleep and moaned slightly, rubbing her legs together.

"Yes, that's it, my dear. React to my touch," he whispered in her ear, "Dream sweetly but only of me, Orihime." Her breathing became harsher and he could see her eyelids flickering. His hand toyed with the hem of her skirt, and then slid between her legs. She gave a long, low moan as his fingers crept beneath her panties and flicked at her moist core, teasing and circling. "You're dreaming now," he told her. "Dreaming that I'm taking you, I'm inside you." His voice dropped lower. "We're on the stone altar. I'm in the form of a vampire, and although you hate it, hate that one such as I gives you so much pleasure, you can't help yourself. You find yourself a prisoner of your own desires, a slave to my every caress, falling to your knees at my command, all for your desperate hope that I might touch you like this." She groaned, and thrashed in his grip, her cheeks pinking with both distress and delight.

His fingers strummed across her core, rubbing faster and harder, and she writhed. "You beg for me, promise me undying trust and servitude, swear you will obey my every whim for eternity." His voice was low and melodic, his lips brushing her ear, her throat. Her gasps and moans became louder as he massaged her hot swollen bud more vigorously.

"Bound in pleasure," he murmured, "you will do anything for me, even though you know that I only seek my own desires." His deep voice grew more intense. "Say it!" he commanded. "I want to hear you say it out loud. To whom do your body and soul belong?"

She rolled her head, arching her back and clenching her hands, her legs flailing against him. "Aizen-sama," she slurred. "My… my body… and soul belong to you," she gasped out, "and I exist, I exist only for your…your…" Her voice rose, became almost a shriek, "your purpose and use!"

He gazed down at her, relishing her submission, the once-proper young girl splayed wantonly open across his lap, her rhythmic thrusts creating delicious pressure against his own arousal. Her skirt was rucked up around her waist, her bare legs spread wide as her body yearned against his touch, his long, strong fingers drumming along her slick, hot flesh. She was close; it was swelling within her; he could see the rising color in her face, her frenzied bucking against his hand.

His eyes glittered with pleasure and gratification as she suddenly tensed all over and screamed, "Aizen-sama!" She arched almost off his lap and his other arm tightened around her waist, holding her securely against his body.

As her breathing gradually calmed and her body relaxed completely against his, a look of calm satisfaction spread across his face. He withdrew his hand from between her legs to glide his fingers across her parted lips. Her tongue darted out to taste herself and she moaned again.

"You hunger for me," he whispered, holding her close. "There is no food that can satisfy you but me. There is only one reality that matters to you, the one where you are writhing in sexual pleasure at my whim." A dark, dark smile appeared on his lips. "Is that not so, my dearest Orihime?"

"Ahhhh," she groaned. "Yes," she finally muttered. "Yes, my… my lord and master."

XxXxXxX

**A/N:** What is your opinion of the lemon in this chapter?

a. Loved it!

b. Update soon

c. Liked the lemon

d. Too lemony

e. Aizen is a sexy beast


	8. Chapter 8

**The Quarry – Chap. 8**

**A/N:** Thanks so much for your kind reviews! Your comments continue to encourage and inspire me. Hopefully I should be back on a once-a-week schedule with this story. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

(Originally posted 7/14/2013.)

XxXxXxX

Ulquiorra was patrolling in the forest when he heard the mental summons of his master. He immediately stopped what he was doing and turned in the direction of the call. It did not take long before he entered a small clearing, where his lord, dressed in casual human clothing, was waiting.

Aizen reclined against a tree in the quiet clearing, idly caressing a female with masses of tangled auburn hair, lying spread out across a log, her head pillowed in his lap, her clothing disheveled. It was the woman he had first discovered, the one with the curious power. Her body was completely drenched with his master's magic. The bright spark of her spirit lay quiescent and subservient beneath Aizen's immensely powerful will.

Ulquiorra approached and knelt at Aizen's feet, bowing his head.

"Rise." Aizen's voice was soft. "We wait for the others."

The shaggy-haired vampire got to his feet and stood in silence. The soft, rhythmic calls of insects and frogs were the only sound in the moon-dappled forest. He extended his senses; several other vampires were approaching in response to Aizen's call.

Soon four vampires entered the clearing. They hesitated upon seeing the sleeping woman curled up in their lord's lap.

Aizen waved a hand negligently. "She is asleep and under my spell. You may approach."

At that, two of the vampires immediately moved forward and dropped to their knees. The other two glanced nervously at each other, and then followed suit. "Lord Aizen," murmured the one in the lead, an extremely tall, thin vampire with stringy black hair. "What are your commands?"

Aizen shifted his position and settled Orihime's head against his torso. "What are the orders I have given for when Orihime Inoue and I are together?" he asked softly.

The tall, lanky vampire gave a pointed glance at the one kneeling in the rear, a thin, pale man with curly black hair. "Luppi was on duty tonight. Answer his lordship!" he ordered.

Luppi brushed his hair back with a trembling hand. Then his eyes dropped and he muttered to the ground in front of him, "We are supposed to guard you and prevent any threats from approaching or intruding."

"And what happened tonight?" Aizen inquired calmly.

Luppi swallowed but did not look up. "I, uh… I was, um, fighting with Grimmjow, and…" His pale violet eyes lifted suddenly. "Sire, it was Grimmjow! He distracted me on purpose, knowing it would anger you, and…" He quailed at Aizen's fierce glare and abruptly changed his tactics, falling on his face in the dirt. "…My lord! I humbly beg your forgiveness. I failed in my duty and allowed that feral vampire to get through. I will accept any punishment you see fit to inflict upon me. " A sob escaped him.

Aizen gazed down at him dispassionately. "I am pleased that you admit your error, Luppi. As to your punishment…" He made a brief gesture and raised his power. The clearing filled with a heavy, crushing energy, and the four vampires kneeling before him all shivered.

Then the energy focused and arrowed in on the thin vampire at the rear, who was shaking uncontrollably.

Luppi shrieked and clutched his head. His muscles began to jerk and spasm as his jaw locked in a rictus of agony. He fell to the ground with a series of long, ululating cries. Aizen watched, his face calm, not ceasing his gentle caress of Orihime's hair, as the vampire rolled back and forth in the dirt, screaming as tears streamed down his face.

Ulquiorra stood to one side, observing. The other vampires continued to kneel, motionless, their eyes averted. They had all witnessed Aizen's punishments before; his ability to torment or kill any he chose without a touch was but one sign of his vast powers, merely one reason in a long list of why they all remained in thrall to him. He rarely showed his anger upon his face; that was why it was important to demonstrate submission to him at all times. A single misstep or even a slight annoyance while he was angry could mean harsh punishment or death to his subordinates.

The shrieks and inhuman cries continued to ring out in the tiny clearing, undoubtedly sending all the nearby animals into fearful retreat. Eventually, however, a look of boredom crossed Aizen's face, and he gestured again.

"Enough." He looked away as the sobbing, pain-wracked vampire curled into a ball on the ground, his body still shaking. Aizen waved a hand lazily. "You are indeed fortunate tonight, Luppi. I have been unusually merciful to you, have I not?"

There was no sound for a moment except the muffled sobbing of the figure on the ground. Aizen frowned slightly. "Have I not?" he repeated.

"Y-y-yes, my lord," gasped out Luppi through trembling lips. He crept forward and kissed the dirt at Aizen's feet. "Thank you, Majesty, for your great… mercy tonight to this unworthy creature. I am forever grateful to be your humble slave. "

Aizen's frown receded. "Very well. It is indeed fortuitous that no harm was done to my plans." He looked at the others. "As it turned out, I was able to use Luppi's error to my advantage." He smiled faintly. "I am weaving a very complex spell around this woman, who has a very unique ability that I wish to use to my benefit during the upcoming ceremony. It is extremely critical that no more slips be made." His eyes tracked coldly from one to the other. "Do I make myself understood?"

At the ragged chorus of assent, he nodded. "Good. You are dismissed to resume your duties." As they staggered to their feet and turned to leave, he continued, "Ulquiorra. Stay."

The shaggy-haired vampire inclined his head, waiting. There was a long pause as the scuffling footsteps of the others faded away and the night animals gradually resumed their calls.

Aizen leaned back and studied Ulquiorra. "You have something to say. Out with it."

Ulquiorra's gaze was expressionless. "I think you sent Grimmjow to attack Luppi. You wanted that feral vampire to approach you and the girl. Yet at the same time, you wanted to spread fear in the ranks, to ensure that they are especially careful to obey your orders for the remainder of the night and in the nights to come."

A subtle smile appeared on Aizen's lips. "Very good, Ulquiorra. Your deductive powers are flawless as always." He exhaled softly, gazing down at the sleeping face of the young girl. "Yes. I wanted to see her power in action. It is as I supposed; it is a unique gift."

"Was the cost that she now knows your true nature?"

Aizen raised a brow. "Come now, surely you know me better than that." He glanced down again. "I told her I was a shapeshifter and hypnotized her into seeing the forms I desired."

Ulquiorra looked at him with an expression almost of skepticism on his stoic face. "Am I to guess that one of the forms you showed her was that of a vampire?"

The vampire lord laughed at that, shaking his head. "Ah, I take it back. You do know me well." He smoothed a strand of hair away from Orihime's face. "It was a reasonable precaution, in case she happens to see me in that form at some point."

Ulquiorra stared at his master. It was most likely something more than that, he suspected. He had already observed that Aizen enjoyed taking chances. He would have relished allowing the woman to see his true form, perhaps even raising her suspicions slightly that he was not what he said he was. It was part of the way he played games, just as toying with Luppi for his amusement and to manipulate the others was but another stratagem. He always seemed to formulate convoluted plans that skated on the edge of being found out. Many vampires enjoyed the thrill of the chase, but Aizen took it to an extreme. Of course, the risk, if it occurred, was likely to fall mostly on his subordinates, especially if the ceremony Aizen was planning for Halloween went awry and there was a coordinated attack from their enemies. No doubt Aizen had a scheme for his personal safety in that event, leaving the rest of his army to fight off the strike.

It was none of his concern in any event. His job was to serve his master loyally and make sure his plans, intrigues, and even his amusements, whatever their nature, proceeded as efficiently as possible. He had been asked to stay behind for a reason. "What is the next step in the plan? For the Ouken Variation to succeed, it will be necessary that she not be under your hypnosis during the ritual. "

"I am working on that," Aizen said calmly. "It will be taken care of before the end of the month. In the meantime," he added, shifting on the log, "Grimmjow will be here shortly with his fracción. I want you personally to raise a shield and make sure that nothing can be sensed outside the immediate area. No one, including Nnoitra, Luppi, or even Gin, is to know what's going on here."

This time Ulquiorra raised his eyebrow. "You suspect Lord Ichimaru of disloyalty?"

Aizen lifted his head and gave him a cold stare. "I trust nobody. It would be well for you to do the same."

The shaggy-haired vampire bowed his head. "As my Lord wishes."

"Go." Aizen's voice was still cold. "I sense Grimmjow approaching."

Ulquiorra's senses, not as sensitive as Aizen's, could still detect nothing. With a final bow, he departed to go about his duties.

Aizen, left alone in the clearing with Orihime, smiled gently down at the girl. "Now, my dear, for the next stage of my plan. We must get you ready for Grimmjow." He raised his powers.

XxXxXxX

**A/N: **What do you think are Aizen's thoughts and plans? Is there anything you particularly liked or disliked about this chapter?

a. Loved it!

b. Update soon

c. I liked seeing Ulquiorra

d. I liked seeing Luppi

e. Aizen clearly doesn't care about Orihime

f. I think Aizen has feelings for Orihime


End file.
